Buckingham.
Will not King Richard let me speak with him?

Sher.
No, good my lord, therefore be patient.

Buck.
Hastings, and Edward's children, Gray and Rivers,
Holy King Henry! and thy fair son Edward,
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
By under-hand, corrupted, foul injustice!
If that your moody, discontented souls,
Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
Ev'n for revenge mock my destruction.
This is All-Souls day, fellows, is it not?

Sher.
It is, my lord.

Buck.
This is the day, which in King Edward's time
I wisht might fall on me, when I was found
False to his children, or his wife's allies.
This is the day wherein I wisht to fall
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted:
This the determin'd respite of my wrongs.
That high All-seer, which I dallied with,
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,
And giv'n in earnest, what I begg'd in jest.
Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
To turn their own points on their master's bosoms.
Thus Marg'ret's curse falls heavy on my head:

When he, quoth she, shall split thy heart with sorrow,
Remember Marg'ret was a prophetess.
Come Sirs, convey me to the block of shame,
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. [Exeunt Buckingham with Officers. SCENE II. The Camp. Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others, with Drum and Colours.

Richm.
Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends
Bruis'd underneath the yoak of tyranny,
Thus far into the bowels of the land
Have we march'd on without impediment;
And here receive we from our father Stanley
Lines of fair comfort and encouragement.
The wretched, bloody and usurping boar,
That spoil'd your summer-fields, and fruitful vines,
Swill'd your warm blood like wash, and made his trough
In your embowell'd bosoms; this foul swine
Lyes now ev'n in the centre of this Isle,
Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn:
From Tamworth thither is but one day's march.
In God's name cheerly on, couragious friends,
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace,
By this one bloody tryal of sharp war.

Oxf.
Ev'ry man's conscience is a thousand swords,
To fight against that bloody homicide.

Herb.
I doubt not but his friends will fly to us.

Blunt.
He hath no friends, but who are friends for fear,
Which in his greatest need will fly from him.

Richm.
All for our vantage; then in God's name march,
True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings,
Kings it makes Gods, and meaner creatures Kings. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Bosworth Field. Enter King Richard in arms, with Norfolk, Ratcliff, and Catesby.

K. Rich.
Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth field.
Why how now Catesby, why look'st thou so sad?

Cates.
My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.

K. Rich.
My lord of Norfolk.

Nor.
Here, most gracious Liege.

K. Rich.
Norfolk, we must have knocks: ha, must we not?

Nor.
We must both give and take, my gracious lord.

K. Rich.
Up with my tent, here will I lye to-night,
But where to-morrow?—well all's one for that.
Who hath descry'd the number of the traitors?

Nor.
Six or sev'n thousand is their utmost power.

K. Rich.
Why, our battailion trebles that account:
Besides, the King's name is a tower of strength,
Which they upon the adverse faction want.
Up with the tent: come, noble gentlemen,
Let us survey the vantage of the ground.
Call for some men of sound direction:
Let's want no discipline, make no delay,
For, lords, to-morrow is a busie day. [Exeunt. Enter Richmond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, and Dorset.

Richm.
The weary sun hath made a golden set,
And by the bright tract of his fiery car,
Gives signal of a goodly day to-morrow.

Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard:
The Earl of Pembroke keep his regiment;
Good captain Blunt, bear my good night to him,
And by the second hour in the morning
Desire the Earl to see me in my tent.
Yet one thing more, good Blunt, before thou goest;
Where is lord Stanley quarter'd, dost thou know?

Blunt.
Unless I have mista'en his colours much,
(Which well I am assur'd I have not done)
His regiment lyes half a mile at least
South from the mighty power of the King.

Richm.
If without peril it be possible,
Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him,
And give him from me this most needful note.

Blunt.
Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it.

† ^noteRichm.
Give me some ink and paper; in my tent
I'll draw the form and model of our battel,
Limit each leader to his several charge,
And part in just proportion our small strength.
Let us consult upon to-morrow's business;
In to our tent, the air is raw and cold. [They withdraw into the tent. Enter King Richard, Ratcliff, Norfolk, and Catesby.

K. Rich.
What is't a clock?

Cates.
It's supper time, my lord,
It's nine a clock.

K. Rich.
I will not sup to-night.
What, is my beaver easier than it was?

And all my armour laid into my tent?

Cates.
It is, my Liege, and all things are in readiness.

K. Rich.
Good Norfolk hie thee to thy charge,
Use careful watch, chuse trusty centinels.

Nor.
I go, my lord.

K. Rich.
Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk.

Nor.
I warrant you, my lord. [Exit.

K. Rich.
Catesby.

Cates.
My lord.

K. Rich.
Send out a pursuivant at arms
To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power
Before sun-rising, lest his son George fall
Into the blind cave of eternal night.
Fill me a bowl of wine—give me a watch— [To Ratcliff.
Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow:
Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy.
Ratcliff—

Rat.
My lord?

K. Rich.
Saw'st thou the melancholy lord Northumberland?

Rat.
Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself,
Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop
Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.

K. Rich.
I'm satisfy'd; give me a bowl of wine.
I have not that alacrity of spirit
Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to have—
There, set it down. Is ink and paper ready?

Rat.
It is, my lord.

K. Rich.
Bid my guard watch, and leave me.
About the mid of night come to my tent,
And help to arm me. Leave me now I say. [Ex. Ratcliff.

SCENE III. Richmond's Tent. Enter Stanley to Richmond in his Tent.

Stan.
Fortune and victory sit on thy helm!

Richm.
All comfort that the dark night can afford,
Be to thy Person, noble father-in-law,
Tell me, how fares our loving mother?

Stan.
I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother,
Who prays continually for Richmond's good:
So much for that—The silent hours steal on,
And flaky darkness breaks within the East.
In brief, for so the season bids us be,
Prepare thy battel early in the morning,
And put thy fortune to th' arbitrement
Of bloody strokes, and mortal staring war.
I, as I may, (that which I would, I cannot)
With best advantage will deceive the time,
And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms.
But on thy side I may not be too forward,
Lest (being seen) thy brother tender George
Be executed in his father's sight.
Farewel; the leisure, and the fearful time
Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love,
And ample enterchange of sweet discourse,
Which so-long-sundred friends should dwell upon.
God give us leisure for these rights of love.
Once more adieu, be valiant, and speed well.

Richm.
Good lords, conduct him to his regiment:
I'll strive, with troubled ^{a note}thoughts, to take a nap,
Lest leaden slumber poize me down to-morrow,

When I should mount with wings of victory:
Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. [Exeunt. Manet Richmond.
O thou! whose captain I account my self,
Look on my forces with a gracious eye:
Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath,
That they may crush down with a heavy fall
Th'usurping helmets of our adversaries.
Make us thy ministers of chastisement,
That we may praise thee in thy victory.
To thee I do commend my watchful soul,
E're I let fall the windows of mine eyes:
Sleeping and waking, oh defend me still. [Sleeps. SCENE IV. Between the Tents of Richard and Richmond: They sleeping. Enter the Ghost of Prince Edward Son to Henry the Sixth.

Ghost.
Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! [To K. Rich.
Think how thou stab'st me in the prime of youth
At Tewksbury; therefore despair and die.
  Be cheerful Richmond, for the wronged souls [To Richm.
Of butcher'd Princes fight in thy behalf:
King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. Enter the Ghost of Henry the Sixth.

Ghost.
When I was mortal, my anointed body [To K. Rich.
By thee was punched full of holes;
Think on the Tower, and me; despair, and die.
Henry the Sixth bids thee despair, and die.
  Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror. [To Richm.
Harry, that prophesy'd thou should'st be King,

Doth comfort thee in sleep; live thou and flourish. Enter the Ghost of Clarence.

Ghost.
Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! [To K. Rich.
I that was wash'd to death in fulsom wine,
Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death:
To-morrow in the battel think on me,
And fall thy edgless sword; despair and die.
  Thou off-spring of the house of Lancaster, [To Richm.
The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee,
Good angels guard thy battel, live and flourish. Enter the Ghosts of Rivers, Gray, and Vaughan.

Riv.
Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow, [To K. Rich.
Rivers, that dy'd at Pomfret: despair, and die.

Gray.
Think upon Gray, and let thy soul despair, [To K. Rich.

Vaugh.
Think upon Vaughan, and with guilty fear
Let fall thy launce! Richard, despair and die. [To K. Rich.

All.
Awake, and think our wrongs in Richard's bosom
Will conquer him. Awake, and win the day. [To Richm. Enter the Ghost of Lord Hastings.

Ghost.
Bloody and guilty; guiltily awake; [To K. Rich.
And in a bloody battel end thy days:
Think on lord Hastings; and despair and die.
  Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake. [To Richm.
Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake. Enter the Ghosts of the two young Princes.

Ghosts.
Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the Tower:
Let us be laid within thy bosom, Richard, [To K. Rich.
And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death!
Thy Nephews souls bid thee despair and die.

  Sleep Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy. [To Richm.
Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy;
Live, and beget a happy race of Kings.
Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. Enter the Ghost of Anne his wife.

Ghost.
Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife,
That never slept a quiet hour with thee, [To K. Rich.
Now fills thy sleep with perturbations:
To-morrow in the battel think on me,
And fall thy edgless sword: despair and die.
  Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep: [To Richm.
Dream of success and happy victory,
Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. Enter the Ghost of Buckingham.

Ghost.
The first was I that help'd thee to the crown:
The last was I that felt thy tyranny. [To K. Rich.
O, in the battel think on Buckingham,
And die in terror of thy guiltiness.
Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death,
Fainting despair; despairing yield thy breath.
  I dy'd for hope, ere I could lend thee aid; [To Richm.
But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd:
God and good angels fight on Richmon's side,
And Richard fall in height of all his pride. [The Ghosts vanish. [K. Richard starts out of his dream.

K. Rich.
Give me another horse—bind up my wounds.
Have mercy, Jesu—soft, I did but dream.
O coward conscience! how dost thou afflict me?
The lights burn blue—is it not dead midnight?
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
What? do I fear my self? there's none else by,

Is there a murth'rer here? no; yes, I am.* ^note










My conscience hath a thousand sev'ral tongues,
And ev'ry tongue brings in a sev'ral tale,
And ev'ry tale condemns me for a villain.
Perjury, perjury in high'st degree,
Murther, stern murther in the dir'st degree,
All several sins all us'd in each degree,
Throng to the bar, all crying, guilty, guilty!
I shall despair: there is no creature loves me:
And if I die, no soul will pity me.* ^note




Methought, the souls of all that I had murther'd
Came to my tent, and every one did threat
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. Enter Ratcliff.

Rat.
My lord.

K. Rich.
Who's there?

Rat.
Ratcliff, my lord. The early village cock
Hath twice done salutation to the morn;
Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.

K. Rich.
Ratcliff, I fear, I fear—

Rat.
Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows.

K. Rich.
By the Apostle Paul, shadows to-night
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard,
Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers
Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond.
It is not yet near day. Come, go with me,
Under our tents; I'll play the eaves-dropper,
To hear if any mean to shrink from me. [Exeunt K. Richard and Ratcliff. SCENE V. Enter the Lords to Richmond sitting in his Tent.

Lords.
Good morrow, Richmond.

Richm.
I cry you mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen,
That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here.

Lords.
How have you slept, my lord?

Richm.
The sweetest sleep and fairest boading dreams,
That ever enter'd in a drowsie head,
Have I since your departure had, my lords.
Methought their souls whose bodies Richard murther'd,
Came to my tent, and cried out Victory.
I promise you my heart is very jocund,
In the remembrance of so fair a dream.
How far into the morning is it, lords?

Lords.
Upon the stroak of four.

Richm.
Why then 'tis time to arm and give direction.
More than I have said, loving countrymen,
The leisure and enforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell on; yet remember this,
God and our good cause fight upon our side,
The pray'rs of holy saints, and wronged souls,
Like high-rear'd bulwarks stand before our faces.

Richard except, those whom we fight against
Had rather have us win, than him they follow.
For what is he they follow? truly gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant, and a homicide:
One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish'd;
One that made means to come by what he hath,
And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him.
A base foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's chair, where he is falsely set:
One that hath ever been God's enemy;
Then if you fight against God's enemy,
God will in justice ward you as his soldiers.
If you do sweat to put a tyrant down,
You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain:
If you do fight against your country's foes,
Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire.
If you do fight in safeguard of your wives,
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors.
If you do free your children from the sword,
Your children's children quit it in your age.
Then in the name of God and all these rights,
Advance your standards, draw your willing swords.
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt
Shall be this cold corps on the earth's cold face:
But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt
The least of you shall share his part thereof.
Sound drums and trumpets boldly, chearfully,
God, and Saint George! Richmond, and victory!

SCENE VI. Enter King Richard, Ratcliff, and Catesby.

K. Rich.
What said Northumberland, as touching Richmond?

Rat.
That he was never trained up in arms.

K. Rich.
He said the truth; and what said Surrey then?

Rat.
He smil'd and said, the better for our purpose.

K. Rich.
He was i'th' right, and so indeed it is.
Tell the clock there—give me a Kalendar. [Clock strikes.
Who saw the sun to-day?

Rat.
Not I, my lord.

K. Rich.
Then he disdains to shine; for by the book,
He should have brav'd the east an hour ago—
A black day it will be to some body, Ratcliff.

Rat.
My lord?

K. Rich.
The sun will not be seen to-day;
The sky doth frown and lowre upon our army—
I would these dewy tears were from the ground—
Not shine to-day? why what is that to me
More than to Richmond? for the self-same heav'n
That frowns on me, looks sadly upon him. Enter Norfolk.

Nor.
Arm, arm, my lord, the foe vaunts in the field.

K. Rich.
Come, bustle, bustle—caparison my horse.
Call up lord Stanley, bid him bring his power,
I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,
And thus my battel shall be ordered.
My foreward shall be drawn in length,
Consisting equally of horse and foot:
Our archers shall be placed in the midst;

John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of the foot and horse.
They thus directed, we our self will follow
In the main battel, which on either side
Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse:
This and St. George to boot. What think'st thou, Norfolk?

Nor.
A good direction, warlike Soveraign.
This paper found I on my tent this morning. [Giving a scrowl.

Jocky of Norfolk, be not so bold, [Reads.
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.

K. Rich.
A thing devised by the enemy.
Go gentlemen, go each man to his charge.
Let not our babling dreams affright our souls;
Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe.
Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law.
March on, join bravely, let us to't pell mell,
If not to heav'n, then hand in hand to hell.
What shall I say more than I have inferr'd?
Remember whom you are to cope withal,
A sort of vagabonds, of rascals, run-aways,
A scum of Britons, and base lackey-peasants,
Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth
To desperate adventures and destruction.
You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest:
You having lands, and blest with beauteous wives,
They would restrain the one, distain the other.
And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow,
Long kept in Britain at our mother's cost?
A milk-sop, one that never in his life
Felt so much cold, as over shooes in snow.
Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again,

Lash hence these over-weening rags of France,
These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives;
Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit,
For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd themselves.
If we be conquer'd, let men conquer us,
And not those bastard-Britons, whom our fathers
Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd and thump'd,
And on record left them the heirs of shame.
Shall these enjoy our lands? lye with our wives?
Ravish our daughters?—hark, I hear their drum. [Drum afar off.
Fight gentlemen of England, fight bold yeomen!
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head:
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood:
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves! Enter a Messenger.
What says lord Stanley, will he bring his power?

Mes.
My lord, he doth deny to come.

K. Rich.
Off with his son George's head.

Nor.
My lord, the enemy is past the marsh;
After the battel let George Stanley die.

K. Rich.
A thousand hearts are great within my bosom.
Advance our standards, set upon our foes,
Our ancient word of courage, fair St. George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons.
Upon them! Victory sits on our helms. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. Alarum. Excursions. Enter Catesby.

Cates.
Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue:
The King enacts more wonders than a man,

Daring an opposite to every danger:
His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death.
Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost. Alarum. Enter King Richard.

K. Rich.
A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse.

Cates.
Withdraw, my lord, I'll help you to a horse.

K. Rich.
Slave, I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the dye:
I think there be six Richmonds in the field,
Five have I slain to-day instead of him.
A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse. Alarums. Enter King Richard and Richmond; they fight, Richard is slain. Retreat, and Flourish. Enter Richmond, Stanley bearing the Crown, with divers other lords.

Richm.
God and your arms be prais'd, victorious friends;
The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead.

Stan.
Couragious Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee:
Lo, here these long usurped royalties,
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
Have I pluckt off, to grace thy brows withal.
Wear it, enjoy it, and make use of it.

Richm.
Great God of heaven, say Amen to all.
But tell me first, is young George Stanley living?

Derby.
He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town;
Whither, if you so please, we may withdraw us.

Richm.
What men of note are slain on either side?

Derby.
John Duke of Norfolk, Walter the lord Ferris,
Sir Robert Brakenbury, Sir William Brandon.

Richm.
Inter their bodies as becomes their births.
Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled,
That in submission will return to us.
And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament,
We will unite the White Rose and the Red.
Smile heav'n upon this fair conjunction,
That long hath frown'd upon their enmity:
What traitor hears me, and says not Amen?
England hath long been mad, and scar'd her self;
The brother blindly shed the brother's blood,
The father rashly slaughter'd his own son,
The sons, compell'd, been butchers to the sire:* ^note




O now let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true succeeders of each royal house,
By God's fair ordinance conjoin together!
And let their heirs (God, if thy will be so)
Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace,
With smiling plenty, and fair prosp'rous days.
Abate the edge of traitors, gracious lord!
That would reduce these bloody days again,
And make poor England weep in streams of blood.
Let them not live to taste this land's encrease,
That would with treason wound this fair land's peace.
Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives agen:
That she may long live here, God say, Amen. [Exeunt.

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